Professions
by In Dreams
Summary: Professor Granger doesn't think she's looking for anything more than Professor Malfoy's offering. Until he isn't.


**Author's Note: **A birthday gift to the lovely msmerlin13. I hope you enjoy!

Alpha credits to Kyonomiko and LadyKenz347; this piece is unbeta'd and errors are my own.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise, and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"Professor Granger."

Wooden feet scraped along the floor as he settled into his seat.

"Professor Malfoy." Chewing a slow bite, she offered an inclined nod. "How were the day's lessons?"

"Well, thank you." Tucking his serviette in his lap, he helped himself to a plate. "Uneventful. No cauldron eruptions to speak of."

Chuckling, her lips curved with humour. "That's usually a good thing."

Around them, the bustle of the Hogwarts student body was a continuous hum, their fellow professors in quiet conversation amongst themselves.

Swallowing a bite, he flashed his teeth. "Indeed it is." Silence fell over them as they completed their meal, small talk having been accomplished and done with. Before he rose, he turned to face her. "Professor Granger – perhaps you'll meet with me in my quarters after dinner. There is a matter we need to discuss."

Hermione's gaze slid to meet his; a flash of chocolate and steel. "Very well."

Beneath the table, his knee nudged against hers.

* * *

Entangled within her curls, his fingers pulled hard enough to tug at her scalp, and a breathy moan escaped her lips. His other hand roughly gripped the bare skin of her hip, her skirt bunched up around her arse as he slammed into her from behind, her hands holding tight to the desk before her.

A low keen was drawn from her throat, her eyelids fluttering with each thrust, each low growl against the shell of her ear. He was near – she could tell by the way his pace escalated, his rhythm rough and hard.

Surprising in its voracity and suddenness, orgasm swept through her with a cry; a handful of thrusts later he stilled with a curse muffled by her shoulder, his fingers clenched tightly around her flesh.

Quick, punishing, and relentless. The way they both preferred it. And Hermione had learned early on it wasn't an emotional arrangement – it was difficult to maintain a personal life as a professor, sequestered in a castle with students for the majority of the year.

Withdrawing himself from within her core, he cast a wandless spell to clean them both up. Buttoning his shirt, his heated gaze roved the length of her body as she dragged her knickers back up her legs.

As he slipped the knot of his tie to his throat, he offered her a smirk. "An excellent discussion, as always, Professor Granger."

"And you." Shrugging on her robes, she offered him a nod and a hint of a smile. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

His words were soft and husky. "You know I will."

The door closed quietly behind her as she retreated from the cold and damp of the dungeons.

* * *

It hadn't always been this way, between them. Draco Malfoy had already been working as the Hogwarts Potions Master for three years by the time Hermione completed her dual Mastery in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes and accepted the position following the retirement of Professor Vector.

In fact, she had been jarred to learn that Malfoy worked in the castle, but Hermione had found an old and welcome friend in Neville Longbottom, the new professor of Herbology.

One evening the three of them had been for a drink in the village – and one drink had led to several more after Neville retired for the night, and Hermione found herself stumbling back to the castle at Professor Malfoy's side. The smirk on his lips and the heat in his scintillating stare twisted her insides into heated, desirous knots, and by the time they arrived back in the castle his hands had been clutching her arse and his tongue in her mouth in an empty corridor.

It had been almost a decade since the war, and as colleagues they were forced to put a certain amount of trust in one another. With an unspoken sort of agreement, the old animosity between them had simply faded away as they found themselves wrapped around one another again and again.

Early on, Professor Malfoy had made a casual mention of an arrangement – and things had fallen easily into place as they were now.

They rarely kissed, they never spent the night in one another's quarters, and they generally avoided delving into anything _too_ personal beyond lessons and students. Although his witty quips could make her laugh, and on rough days his wry smirk directed her way could make her smile.

He was usually willing to join her in some harmless banter, and his teasing drawl kept her sharp. If nothing else, she had come to consider him a friend – _most_ of the time. Every so often there was a tantalizing hint of something more behind the grey in his eyes – but usually she would blink and it would vanish.

Aside from her teaching, Hermione pursued her own research, so the situation suited her fine, easing within the heavy demands on her time. Even if she, on occasion, considered the idea that they might indulge something further one day, she wasn't willing to push in case it caused him to back off.

And the sex was fantastic.

He always seemed to know what she wanted, what she needed, and he was _incredibly_ skilled with his hands and mouth.

For now, Professor Malfoy was everything she was looking for.

* * *

There was a high-pitched sort of cacophony at the back of her classroom – one which Hermione had come to associate with the gossip of teenaged girls. The rest of the class was working on a group project, a quiet hum pervading the space. Lifting a brow, she crossed the room and fixed the three culprits with a leading stare.

Guiltily, the girls turned to face her, embarrassed blushes staining their cheeks.

"Sorry, Professor Granger," one of them said in a hushed tone, scrambling for her quill.

"No, go on," Hermione said, musing as she stared at three of her brightest. "Clearly, something more important than Arithmetic theory has caught your attention." With a rueful smile, she added, "I know it isn't the _most_ interesting subject matter."

The three shared a nervous chuckle, and the first girl, a Ravenclaw by the name of Patrice, whispered, "It's about Professor Malfoy."

A surge of adrenaline jolted through her veins at the instinctive reaction that it had something to do with her, but almost instantly she relaxed. "And what about him?" Lips twitching, she added, "You ought not be gossiping about your professors in the first place."

One of the other girls, a blonde Hufflepuff, released a titter. "About his new girlfriend."

Blinking several times, Hermione kept her expression neutral. "Professor Malfoy doesn't have a girlfriend."

The first girl snickered, covering her mouth with her hand. In a sing-song sort of voice, she said, "That's not what the rumour mill says."

Interjecting with a glance between them, the third girl said, "Apparently he visited Professor Longbottom in Greenhouse seven last night, and left with an _elaborate_ bouquet."

"_And_," the Hufflepuff whispered, "his mother sent him a small package – like jewellery."

"According to Selwyn from Slytherin, there's an ancient tradition in his bloodline that specifies he must establish a proper marriage contract before he turns thirty." The girls tittered again.

Forcing her breathing steady, Hermione managed to roll her eyes. "This all sounds like hearsay, if you ask me. And _you_ lot shouldn't be talking about him in this way. You're sixteen, for Merlin's sake."

The first girl eyed Hermione with a smile. "Surely, Professor Granger, you've seen the man."

Squinting at the three of them, Hermione did her best to ignore the anxious quelling in the pit of her stomach. Opting not to dignify the comment with a response, she clicked her tongue. "Enough of this. Back to work!"

Sharing a secretive smile, the three girls returned to their assignment. Swallowing the thick feeling in her throat, Hermione returned to her desk, wishing she hadn't asked.

* * *

As she observed Professor Malfoy that evening, she couldn't tell anything was amiss. He fixed her with the same polite smile as he drew his chair in beside hers at the head table, and proceeded into his dinner after brief, obligatory small talk.

She wanted to ask about the validity of the rumours she had heard – whether he had a girlfriend, or was pursuing a witch for her hand in marriage.

Hermione told herself her interest was borne simply of a desire _not_ to end up in the way. The last thing she wanted was to be his woman on the side. But he had never so much as mentioned another woman to her, and while their relationship was both professional and sexual, it was rarely personal. They'd certainly never made a claim on one another – and maybe it was because he needed to seek the hand of a lovely, pureblooded bride.

So it wasn't entirely amiss that he'd not mentioned the subject, but she would have expected he might have warned her.

Even so, the grey of his stare didn't quite reach her eyes when he chuckled at a passing comment, and he turned to engage Neville in conversation instead.

Hermione hadn't given much thought to pursuing a relationship with anyone, given her work kept her so busy and it was difficult to manage regularly leaving the castle. But, she supposed, some of the professors _were_ married.

Malfoy finished his dinner with haste, tucking his napkin on the table as he made to stand without comment. Thinking to mention meeting up later, Hermione stared at him. But he only offered her that same tight, somewhat forced smile, before bidding her a nice night.

It left her feeling cold in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

In the days that followed, Hermione found herself increasingly aware of Professor Malfoy's actions throughout the day, in the hallways, and at mealtimes.

He hadn't asked her to visit him in the dungeons, and she hadn't plucked up the nerve to broach the subject herself. The last thing she needed was to invite him over and for an awkward rejection to ensue.

But Professor Malfoy hadn't acted in any way to suggest he didn't want to speak with her, and she found herself wondering why she cared so much.

Beyond the fact that they had undeniable chemistry, there had only ever been hints at something else between them. So why would she begrudge him a chance at happiness with someone, if there was a witch he had chosen to pursue?

Hermione supposed she only wished he would tell her himself.

One evening, several days after she'd first heard the gossip from her students, Hermione wandered the halls in the evening, when a stifling need for air overtook her, and she found herself outside roaming the grounds instead.

"Hermione." Glancing up, and drawn from her thoughts, Hermione smiled at the sight of Neville walking towards her. "What brings you out here?"

"Just thought to get some fresh air." Dipping her chin in a nod, she twisted her hands at her front. "I've a lot on my mind this week."

"Ah." With a knowing smile, Neville followed her stare to the early oranges of an impending sunset. A slight breeze blew in from the Black Lake. "This is about those rumours circulating about Professor Malfoy."

Lifting a brow, Hermione shook her head. "I'm not sure what you –"

"It's okay, Hermione." His face dropped into an apologetic smile. "You two hide it well, but I know there's something between you. In fact, I think most of the professors know. Except, ironically, Sybil."

Allowing her shoulders to drop, Hermione twisted her mouth into a grimace. "Is it that obvious?"

Lifting his shoulders in a shrug, Neville conceded a nod. "He didn't tell me who, or what he was doing with the flowers, if you're wondering."

"It's okay," Hermione breathed, feeling some of the tension sink from within her, even as speaking the topic out loud stirred something within her stomach. "I guess I ought to have known it would end at some point. I just wish he'd tell me himself."

"My guess?" Neville's brows lifted, and Hermione gave a nod. "He's probably uncomfortable, given you work together. He doesn't exactly do well with confrontation. And besides, I think the two of you go well together, and he probably doesn't want to give up your friendship." His lips twitched as he cast her a sidelong glance. "Why do you think I was keen to leave so early that night the three of us were out? The tension was _palpable_, Hermione."

Gaping at him, Hermione felt a sting of colour creep along her throat and into her cheeks. Then she sighed, falling into step as Neville made for the castle. "I suppose I've never tried to have a serious relationship while teaching, because it's felt like such a challenge. But if he's interested in someone, I won't get in the way."

"It _is_ a challenge." There was something like sympathy on Neville's gaze, and if the pair of them hadn't been through so much together, it would have made Hermione's insides curdle. "Luna and I have been together five years now – and it's definitely been a struggle. But if it's worthwhile, you just find ways to make it work."

"Thanks, Neville." Breathing out a long exhale, she clapped a hand to his arm. "I really appreciate it."

"It'll all work out," Neville said, a reassuring pull to his brow. "You're Hermione Granger, yeah? You could have any bloke you wanted."

As she walked, her eyes fell on the ground, and she murmured, "Right."

Hermione wasn't certain if it wasn't just some sort of misguided territorial claim, but she couldn't quite suppress the thought that _maybe_ the one she wanted was no longer an option.

* * *

A week had passed since the last time she had been to visit Professor Malfoy in his quarters, and while she still wished for closure around the situation, Hermione felt as if she was beginning to let him go.

Clearly, whoever he had met was important enough that he was no longer interested in any sort of arrangement with her, and she couldn't blame him, not when her involvement could jeopardize a potential future.

Winding through the hallways, Hermione turned the corner and stumbled, tripping over someone coming from the opposite direction. Barely staying on her feet, Hermione righted herself, blinking wildly.

A gruff chuckle caused her to snap her head around. "Sorry, Professor Granger. I should have been paying more attention."

Blood suffusing her cheeks, Hermione turned to face Professor Malfoy, her eyes wide. "It's quite alright. Just an accident."

"Right." She watched as the smile slid from his face, and shifted on the spot, feeling uncomfortable in an instant. The skin around his eyes tightened. "How have you been?"

"Fine." Her voice felt unusually high pitched. "Keeping busy, you know."

Ducking his head in a nod, he said, "Of course."

Forcing a smile – that probably came out more like a grimace – she made to carry on. But Malfoy's hand to her wrist stayed her hasty retreat. "Granger…" Clearing his throat, he amended, louder, "Professor Granger. We should talk."

It was a dreaded phrase, and the sound of it from his lips set her heart into a rampaging rhythm, hinting to Hermione that perhaps it _wasn't_ only sexual for her.

Steeling her nerves, she straightened her shoulders and fixed him with a stare. Lifting her chin, she replied, "Yes. It sounds like we should."

He looked uncomfortable. Threading a hand through his hair, his face dropped to the side. "I'm busy tonight… tomorrow? After dinner?"

Through the lump in her throat, she managed to whisper, "Tomorrow is fine."

His fingers still lingered, curled around her wrist, and as her gaze dropped to stare at the contact, moisture stung at her eyes.

Through her periphery, she caught him offer a jerky nod. His fingers retracted, and in a sweep of his robes, he was gone. Hermione released a tight breath.

* * *

By the time classes ended the following day, Hermione had worked herself into such a state of anxiety that she was tempted to skip dinner altogether and owl herself sick.

But she wasn't a child, and she didn't think that was a particularly mature way of dealing with the situation. If Malfoy was happy, she was happy for him. It was her own fault if she hadn't clarified her intentions – although to be fair, she hadn't realized the depth of her intentions until he'd found someone else.

No matter. She could be an adult about it.

Picking at her dinner, Hermione avoided the general hum of chatter going on around her, and she pushed away her plate, still half-full, before retreating to her quarters. Malfoy wouldn't be back in the dungeons for a while, and there was no sense in looking as if she were waiting for him.

Slipping out of her robes, she stretched her neck to one side and the other, feeling her eyelids flutter with something that felt like disappointment.

But at least they would finally clear the air, and Hermione could begin to move on with her life. Maybe she would even take a chance on meeting someone – like Neville suggested, if it was worthwhile, she could put the effort into making it work.

She suspected it would be a while before she was interested in putting herself out there.

Leaving her quarters, she made her way towards the dungeons with her bravest face.

With a watery chuckle, she considered the fact that all of this utter emotional nonsense was over _Draco Malfoy_, and the thought made her feel better, even if marginally.

The door to his classroom was unlocked and Hermione entered, finding the room still empty when she pressed it shut behind her. Crossing the room towards his office, she was aware of the echo of her steps as they clicked on the stone floors, and almost subconsciously she lightened her tread.

Reaching to knock on the door, feeling as if it wasn't her place to simply walk in as she might have done once, she stumbled forward as the door opened before she could reach it.

Professor Malfoy walked through, glancing behind him, and collided into her, knocking her off balance. With a huffed curse, his hands came up to her sides, steadying her before she could fall.

Wide grey eyes met hers as his hands dropped back down. With a chuckle, he looked away. "We need to stop running into one another like this."

She managed a stifled sort of a titter. "Maybe you should watch where you're going more often."

"You're right." His expression sobered and he dragged a hand along the back of his neck. "I've had a lot on my mind."

With a soft nod, Hermione was jolted back to the reality of why she was there, and the same uneasiness that had lingered all week took up residence in her chest as a dull ache. "Right. Same."

"Blasted students," he muttered, shaking his head. "You can't do or say anything around this place without it breaking loose like wildfire."

Pursuing her lips, Hermione refrained from mentioning that perhaps if he hadn't been so _secretive_…

"So." With a huff, he slid his hands into his trouser pockets. "Obviously you must have heard some of the same things going around as I did."

Making her best attempt at flippancy, Hermione waved an absent hand, nearly hitting him in the process. "Right. About your new girlfriend. And –" Steeling herself, she sucked in a quick breath. She could be mature about this. "And I just wanted to let you know, I'm happy for you. If you're happy."

Malfoy frowned at her, and for a split second she wondered if that wasn't what he'd expected her to say. With a nervous laugh, she went on, unable to control the words as they poured forth.

"Of course, I've enjoyed what we had, and I suppose, to an extent, you know –" Blowing out a long breath, she pressed her lips together. "What I'm saying is, I understand."

"You understand," he murmured, his eyes narrowed. "About… my new girlfriend?"

"Yes." Forcing a nod, she steadied her hands at her sides, where they had developed a slight tremble during her episode of word vomit.

"I heard something about some old-fashioned marriage contract," he admitted, carding a hand through his pale hair. "And some blood rites."

With a grimace, Hermione breathed out, "I heard that one too. And about the flowers, and the jewellery. And really – like I said, I'm happy for you."

Malfoy made a face. "Jewellery? What in the name of Merlin –" Breaking off, he shook his head. "Look, Granger – I thought you'd been acting strange because you heard about the marriage contract. And I didn't know how to bring it up."

Blinking at him several times, Hermione twisted her hands together, rocking on the balls of her feet. "Well, partly, yes. But I assumed the marriage contract was connected to the reasoning for your new girlfriend."

Huffing an exasperated breath, he asked, "Why do you keep saying that?"

Hermione froze, staring at him with caution, her eyes squinted. "Because I heard it?" Even as the words left her mouth, she realized how feeble they sounded.

"Merlin," Malfoy muttered through clenched teeth, "you're as bad as the students are." Releasing a long, measured breath, he added, "I invited you here to explain about the contract. But it seems as if there are other things at play here."

Folding her arms across her front, Hermione said, "No, wait. Neville told me specifically that the thing about the flowers was true."

Malfoy sighed, pressing his hands together in front of his face. His grey eyes were hard when he looked back at her. "That part was true. But they weren't for any new girlfriend."

"I'm confused. Who did you give them to, then?"

As he waved a hand behind himself, Hermione followed his stare to where a bouquet sat on his desk in a vase filled with water, obviously in some sort of Stasis charm since they still looked fresh. His brows flickered. "No one."

Even more confused than when she'd arrived, she stepped into the office, realizing they'd been standing in the doorway.

In the ensuing tense silence, he followed her in, closing the door. His voice was softer when he spoke again. "I told you – I'd been trying to work up the nerve. I thought hearing about the contract had spooked you."

A frisson of anxiety chased along her spine, even as his words didn't quite settle into anything that made sense. "So tell me about the contract, then."

"It's true." Scratching the back of his neck again, which she realized to be a tell of his nerves, he went on. "There is a contractual spell on the Malfoy lineage that states every Malfoy heir must marry by their thirtieth birthday, and that the intended must be no less than ninety percent pure."

Hermione was suddenly glad she hadn't looked further into the details, as she felt the blood drain from her face.

His gaze steadfast on the floor, he added, "And as you know, I'll be twenty-nine this spring."

"Right." Her voice was soft and breathy, and she fought the instinctive urge to turn and run.

But his gaze lifted to hers as his hands slipped once more into his pockets. "I managed to find a way around it, three months ago."

Searching his stare, a furrow lifted into her brow. "Why?"

"Because." The word was ground through his teeth, as if it had caused him harm. "I found I was interested in someone who didn't quite line up to the specifications."

A breath chased from Hermione's lungs as she stared at him; she couldn't quite comprehend what he was saying and found herself without words. His chin dipped, brows low over his eyes. His voice was delicate and clipped when he qualified, "In case you aren't aware, I'm referring to you."

Sidling alongside his desk, he lifted the gorgeous floral arrangement in its vase, brandishing it in her direction.

Finding her voice, Hermione let a hint of humour play out on her lips, belying the way her heart was slamming into her ribcage. "This is all very romantic."

"Right, well." His tongue flickered out. "What can I say. I'm not exactly what you'd call _good _ at these things."

Releasing a bit of a laugh, she said, "Clearly, neither am I." She accepted the vase, bringing the arrangement to her nose to take a deep inhale. Her eyes lifted back to his. "They're lovely."

"Please," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, "tell me _something_."

Placing the vase back on his desk, Hermione took a step closer, swallowing the nerves that were forming once more. "I can tell you," she began, stopping before him, "that when I heard you had a girlfriend I realized I was actually upset. I felt… hurt. Betrayed. But I knew I had no right to feel that way, since I had no real claim to you."

"That's why I thought you'd been frightened off," he admitted. "And I didn't want to lose _this_, even if it was all you wanted from me."

"Three months," she mused, eyeing him closely. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Granger." He barked an incredulous laugh. "It took me until three months ago to get free of the spell. But technically, before I bollocksed this all up, it's been a year today since that first night – and it hasn't been about the sex for a long time. _That's_ why I got you these flowers."

Moisture stung at her eyes as she gazed at the bouquet once more, and she gaped at him. It was a kinder gesture than she'd ever been granted. She whispered, "They're perfect."

His hand grazed her side, fingers tightening on her hip as he tugged her closer. "What do you think, Granger – do we give this thing a real shot?"

Nodding, she released a watery laugh of relief. "Yes. We do."

With a grin, he ducked in, lips grazing hers in a brief contact. Lifting a hand to his chest, Hermione leaned back.

"Wait – what was that about the jewellery then?"

Rolling his eyes, he made a face. "I had a distant relative pass away. He left me a pair of heirloom cufflinks." At her surprised laugh, he muttered, "_Honestly_, students."

Adrenaline racing through her veins, Hermione fingered the lapel of his collar before her hand twisted to curl around his tie. She breathed, "Terrible, aren't they?" before dragging his mouth to hers.

Despite his softer words of moments before, his kisses were hard, insistent, as his hands slid up her back, hitching her closer. Her stomach melted into a pool of desire as one hand found its way into her curls, tugging her head to the side as his teeth grazed her jaw.

Idly playing at the knot of his tie with the fingers of one hand, Hermione groaned at the feel of his rapidly hardening arousal against her, and her other hand dropped to release the clasp of his belt.

Drawing away, his chest heaving and eyes dark, he offered her a smirk. "As much as I want to take you on my desk," he mused, lips grazing hers again – desire spasmed in her core, "that isn't the plan for tonight."

Grey eyes found hers, and there was something in his stare that settled into her chest, unfurling warmth as she took his hand and his fingers slipped between hers. Tugging her closer, he dragged her through the door behind his desk that was a back entrance into his personal quarters.

Releasing her hand, Malfoy stared at her as he removed his tie, his expression searching and focused. His stare was heavily lidded and his lips curled with a teasing smirk as he breathed, "Undress." Hesitating, his tongue flicked out to moisten his lips as Hermione felt a blush colour her cheeks. "To your knickers. _Please_."

Most often, he took charge between the two of them, and it was rare either of them even fully undressed. Even less common was the thought of them actually making it to a bed. Feeling on a bit of an uneven keel, Hermione slipped the buttons of her oxford, intensely aware of his hot gaze raking over her as she shrugged out of the fabric and dropped it to the floor.

Sliding her fingers beneath the waistband of her skirt, she slid the garment down her hips, her fingers dragging along her stockinged legs.

The bridge of his nose wrinkled, and his lips parted as his tongue darted out again. "You can leave the stockings on."

Her gaze fell to the bulge in his trousers as he slowly pulled his belt free of the loops, and Hermione dragged her bottom lip between her teeth, feeling the tension roil between them.

Lastly, she reached a hand back, releasing the closure of her bra, and with a frisson of nerves, dropped it to the floor, feeling inordinately exposed.

With a soft noise that might have been a growl, he murmured, "Lie down."

Arousal chased through her, pulsing, hot and needy, in her very core, and Hermione settled into the softness of his bed, disinterested in denying him anything at the moment at the look in his eye.

One hand slipped the line of buttons on his shirt, dropping it to the floor, before his trousers joined the pile, leaving him in just his shorts, cock straining.

Climbing atop her, his lips found hers, soft and enticing, a direct juxtaposition from the way he'd kissed her in his office. As Malfoy laved a trail from her lips to her throat, his hands gentle on her bare skin, something pulsed in her heart, leaving her breathless.

Her back arched away from the mattress when he bit down on her earlobe, and she could feel the smirk against her skin.

Tweaking one nipple with his fingers, his mouth found the other, and her lips parted with a groan as he continued a path down, his tongue and lips languorous as his hands slipped beneath the waist of her knickers.

Dragging the lace down her legs, he pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh, and a whimper escaped her throat as her legs tensed, toes curling in anticipation.

With the first swipe of his tongue along her slit, her head fell back with a cry, and his fingers slipped into her heat as he drew her clit between his lips. Chest heaving, unintelligible words tumbled from her lips as he ravaged her, and before long her toes curled, a hand curled in his blond hair as she toppled over the edge.

Even as she was still basking in the pleasure of his touch, he worked his way back up the flat of her stomach, slipping his shorts down and toeing them the rest of the way to the floor. As Hermione reached a hand for him, he stilled her wrist, shifting so he could kiss her, his tongue delving into her mouth, slow and thorough.

Malfoy had always liked having her taste herself on his tongue, and she groaned against his mouth as she felt the hardness of his erection lined up against her entrance.

With a sharp intake of breath, she whispered, "Yes," against his mouth and he plunged in with a swift movement, releasing a growl against her cheek.

Slowly, his hips rolled back and again, sheathing himself to the hilt inside of her. Setting a slow, punishing pace, he pushed her steadily towards her peak again. Hermione felt emotion chase through her veins and moisture spike at her eyes at his careful, almost reverent pace as her legs wrapped up alongside his hips.

Her nails dragged down the flesh of his back, arching towards him, and she had never felt so connected to him as she did in that moment.

"Mine," he whispered against the shell of her ear, his face pressing into her hair as his arms flexed at her sides. Again, he breathed, "You're mine."

Shifting upwards into him, clutching one cheek of his arse, she nodded. "Yours."

It was what she had never realized she wanted – needed – until she thought the chance was gone. His – and him, hers.

It was with that thought she fell once more over the brink, her core clenching tightly around him with a hushed exaltation of his given name. Moments later he followed with a groan, thrusting into her and stilling, the dampness of his temple resting against her cheek.

Lifting his head, his stare found hers, something searching in his gaze as he swept the damp curls back from her face. His lips pressed against hers, inciting the joyous cadence of her heart once more.

Smiling down at her, he mused, "You called me Draco."

There was a promise in his gaze – a promise of more, and someday, and forever – and she blinked up at him with a sad smile. "Draco."

His smile widened, splitting his face with a grin and he ducked in, biting down on the curve of her ear. A jolt shot straight to her core before he settled alongside her, and she rolled to face him.

"So I thought," she breathed, tracing the line of his abdomen, "maybe I'd stay here tonight."

"Damn right you're staying here tonight." Drawing her closer by the curve of her arse, his lips met hers again. "If I have my way you'll be staying with me every night."

Smiling, Hermione threaded her fingers through his hair, elation chasing through her.

She almost thought she heard the words he didn't speak, on an echoed shadow in his voice. That maybe he wasn't ready to say, or he wasn't quite certain of. And she didn't say them either, even though she felt something like it in the pulse of her heart.

It would be another confession for another day, and for now, he was everything she was looking for.


End file.
